


Midnight Infomercials

by LetMeEntertainYou



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Insomnia, M/M, insomniac!john
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2020-03-29 09:41:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19017328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LetMeEntertainYou/pseuds/LetMeEntertainYou
Summary: He groaned at the thought, stopping when he remembered Roger was sleeping next to him. Lucky bastard. He could just close his eyes and immediately fall asleep. No fight, no struggle. If he was tired, he slept. Nothing else to complicate it.If John felt sleepy, he only stayed awake longer, like his body was playing some cruel trick on him. And my god, was he tired. Utterly exhausted from doing album work. But that didn’t make a lick of difference to his brain. It kept him up regardless.





	Midnight Infomercials

**Author's Note:**

> My blog is Disabled-Queen-HC on tumblr.  
> Anon asked: Maybe some Joger with insomniac John, pretty please?

How many sheep were there in the world?

John wasn’t sure, but he  _was_ sure he had counted close enough to the actual number by now. How many more sheep did he have to count until he fell asleep was another good question. He couldn’t answer that either.

He sighed, shifting around under the covers. He opened his eyes just a crack to look at the clock on his bedside. 4:35. The time made his stomach drop, a frown growing on his dry lips. He went to “bed” at 11. Had he really been laying still, counting sheep for 5 hours? And he still wasn’t even remotely asleep?

John guessed it’d be another night like the rest of them. Tossing and turning, getting only the briefest doses of sleep throughout it all. If any. What’s new?

He groaned at the thought, stopping when he remembered Roger was sleeping next to him. Lucky bastard. He could just close his eyes and immediately fall asleep. No fight, no struggle. If he was tired, he slept. Nothing else to complicate it. 

If John felt sleepy, he only stayed awake longer, like his body was playing some cruel trick on him. And my god, was he tired. Utterly exhausted from doing album work. But that didn’t make a lick of difference to his brain. It kept him up regardless. 

John wanted to scream, but he didn’t. Roger was once again lucky, this time because John loved him. Instead, John sat up in bed, swinging his feet over, resolute on spending the next few hours in a vegetative state in front of the TV. It wasn’t even like he was awake and sharp, able to write songs or pay the bills. He was awake and bleary, barely able to remember to blink every so often. 

With another heavy exhale, he got up, fetched his robe and reached for the doorknob of his bedroom.

“Leaving?” Roger’s voice called out, all mumbled with sleep. 

John looked back and couldn’t help but to smile at his boyfriend who was trying to wake himself up to talk. “Yeah. Going to the living room so I won’t bother you. Keep sleeping, Rog,” he whispered.

“Mh-um. Stay. ‘S okay,” Roger lazily pat the space next to him, sleepily trying to coax the other back into bed. 

“Shh, go back to sleep. I’m fine,” John said, the final word before slipping out of the room. He was starting to get restless and the last thing any of them needed was  _two_ sleep deprived people. One was more than enough.

John sluggishly made his way downstairs and into the living room, turning on the TV to some late night infomercial, the only thing on at that ungodly time, All wrapped up in his robe, he threw himself onto the couch and watched as a overly enthusiastic blond woman tried to convince him to buy a microwave oven.

Maybe he couldn’t sleep, but the boring display before him numbed his mind enough to make him feel like he was asleep. Or dead. And in hell. Whichever worked best for him at the moment. 

“Call now and we’ll include this state of the art toaster! For just 30 pounds! Just pay shipping and handling!”

“That’s pretty reasonable,” he murmured to himself, perhaps a little bit delirious with exhaustion. 

“Oh, we are  _not_ getting a microwave,” Roger said as he padded into the barely lit room, tying the belt to his robe. 

John didn’t know if he wanted to cry or cry. Wait that’s the same thing. God, he needed to sleep. 

“What are you doing up?” John croaked, propping himself up on the couch. He really didn’t want to bother Roger and keep him up. There was no point. Roger would just be losing sleep to watch infomercials with him.

“‘Cuz I don’t like leaving you alone to suffer. I’ll suffer with you. Isn’t that sweet?” he said with a grin, walking over and plopping himself onto the couch with John. John puffed some air out of his nose, not quite a laugh. “It’s your loss,” he said with the wave of his hands.

“Spending time with you is never a loss! Now scoot over and make some room. I need to see this,” Roger said as the woman started to show off a non-stick frying pan. John curled his legs in, letting Roger snuggle up to him. He was now 10% less miserable than he was a few minutes ago.

“You just don’t like sleeping without me, huh?” John teased, using a toe to poke at Roger’s middle. Roger playfully slapped John’s foot away. “Can’t sleep without my baby,” he replied coolly, as if he wasn’t working on 5 hours of sleep himself. John rolled his eyes. It was sweet but he still craved nothing more than to be unconscious for at least an hour. 

“You know, if you loved me, you’d choke me until I passed out. Maybe then-”

“Oh my god, John. Watch the pretty lady on the TV. No more planning out homicides,”

“I never said to kill me! Just enough t-”

“She’s selling us a blender! By golly that’s a fine looking blender. We should order that,”

John cackled, burying his face into a pillow. Fine, fine. He’d just have to weather this out like a man. No big deal.

The next hour was spent in idle chat, the both of them not making sense most of the time. Roger was fighting sleep and John was fighting consciousness. 

“I wonder if that knife could really chop a pineapple like that,” Roger said, eyes squinted as the chef on TV demonstrated the knife’s sharpness.

“Probably. It’s a knife you know,”

“Yeah, but pineapples…are hard…like a coconut,”

“No they aren’t. Have you ever even seen either of those fruits?” John asked, craning his neck to look at Roger. He deflated a little bit, a small smile on his face. It seemed Roger had finally lost his battle with sleep, head rested right on his bum too.  _Cute_.

John took to quietly watching the TV, a hand running gently through Roger’s hair. All of this was pretty shitty, but at least he wasn’t alone. He couldn’t lie and say Roger didn’t help at least relax him. It was all he could do, it seemed. But at lea-

John’s eyes opened and sun was suddenly pouring into the room. The TV was playing morning cartoons instead of that stupid infomercial. Oh.  _Oh!_ He fell asleep! He went to sleep! For a few hours!!!!

Unfortunately, John forgot all about poor Roger sleep on him and got up, wanting to punch the air victoriously. Roger tumbled to the floor with a yelp.

“Bloody hell, why’d you do that?” he grumbled on the floor, rubbing his knees that took the impact. John wanted to feign concern, but he was far too delighted in his achievement.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry! I woke up. From being asleep. I slept!” John said as he picked Roger up from the floor, buzzing. 

“That’s fantastic, Deacy. You didn’t have to drop me like that, but I’m proud of you,” he said, clearly still tired from the night they just had. 

John snorted, pressing a kiss to Roger’s nose. “I said sorry!! Now, you go back up to bed. I’ll make us some breakfast,” 

Roger wrinkled his nose but acquiesced, wobbling his way up the stairs, mumbling something about coconuts. John watched, making sure he made it up there before turning to the kitchen, a smile on his face the whole time. 

4 hours of sleep really rejuvenates a man, you know! Sort of! Not really!

John fell asleep, standing, as he made pancakes.

Him and Roger had a really fun late morning going to a diner for breakfast. And later that day, buying a new pan from that infomercial they saw the night before. The one they had had a mysterious accident with some burnt on pancakes. 


End file.
